


Not With Haste

by ajestice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Benny is Best Teddybear, Benny's Back in Purgatory, F/M, OFC is a witch, Romance, Slow Burn, Teaching, Unrepentant Fluff, platonic forehead kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 19:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14984051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajestice/pseuds/ajestice
Summary: Benny tries to teach Charlotte how to evade detection in Purgatory. He mostly fails. Also fluff happens.





	Not With Haste

Now that she knew what to look for, the magic was easy to sense, curled inside her, woven through her veins and down in her bones, it permeated every part of her. It _was_ a part of her.

Charlotte crouched at the base of a pine tree, scanning the forest with wide, unblinking eyes. She wasn’t afraid, per se. She knew what hunted her. She had been hunted by him before.

But she was alert, and that heightened sense of awareness made her hair stand on end and her lungs ache with the urge to breathe harder, faster, to store up oxygen in case the need for sudden flight might arise.

And then there was the magic, coiled beneath her skin like a sleeping snake. Shifting and stretching, expanding through her limbs and up into her mind. As if it was breathing. As if it was alive.

Was her magic restless because _she_ was restless? Or was it reacting to the presence of the one who hunted her?

She still hadn’t figured that one out.

Every sound resonated in her head, drawing her attention, scattering her focus. The rustle of leaves above her head, the dappled sunlight shifting across the forest floor. The smell of earth and water, the smell of life, tinged with the musty dampness of moss and dead leaves.

Charlotte grit her teeth and closed her eyes. Focus.

Vampires were fast, and they were strong. They made less noise than a human might, but they _still_ made noise.

The sound of rustled clothing, a twig snapping under a heavy boot. A single slow, measured breath.

She waited, and she listened, and she heard nothing.

The magic waited, too.

She ignored it. She had survived for twenty-seven years without using the powers bound inside her. At this point, it was a matter of pride.

She sighed and opened her eyes, scanning the woods once more. Her eyes caught on every flicker of movement, pausing, analyzing, dismissing, moving on.

It was exhausting.

She stood, muscles aching in protest, and took a step forward.

The attack came from behind, because like an _idiot_ she had failed to cover her six. She felt a shift in the air currents around her and started to turn, and then he was on top of her, a silent shadow, broad and massive and moving too fast for her eyes to follow.

One big hand wrapped around the back of her neck, shoving her face-down into the dirt, and the other settled heavily against her back, pinning her flat on her stomach.

It was over before she had a chance to fight. So she just growled, low in her throat, and waited.

A deep, rumbling chuckle was her answer, and the hand on her back disappeared. The one on her neck, however, did not.

Instead, he gathered her up by the scruff of her neck and lifted her into the air, turning her around to face him. And all she could do was hang there, paws limp at her sides, helpless and immobile as she glared at him.

Benny tilted his head, narrowing his pale blue eyes at her in what was probably meant to be an intimidating stare. But she could see the dimple in his left cheek, and wasn’t fooled.

“Are you done?” she demanded.

“Nah,” he said with a smug little smile. “But you are.”

Charlotte bared her teeth at him in a silent hiss. “Put me down, you big oaf.”

He chuckled and set her gently on his shoulder, smoothing down her ruffled fur with warm, calloused fingers before turning back to the clearing.

Charlotte snuggled against his neck, paused for a moment, and then dug her claws into his jacket, just deep enough to prick his skin.

Benny huffed a laugh, twitching his shoulder just enough to set her off-balance.

“C'mon, now, kitten," he mused, "don’t be a sore loser."

“Then don’t pick me up like a mangy stray,” she replied primly.

“Stray would’ve known I was there _long_ before you did,” he murmured.

Charlotte didn’t have anything clever to say in response to that, so she remained silent.

Benny’s pace was unhurried, but his eyes were sharp, constantly scanning their surroundings for threats. Charlotte closed her eyes and snuggled against his neck, allowing the gentle sway of his footsteps to lull her into a peaceful trance.

“Could’ve used that magic of yours,” he said after a while. There was no censure in his voice, but she bristled a little, all the same.

“I’ve gotten along fine without it, so far.”

Benny sighed, ducking carefully under a low-hanging tree branch, and then reached up to rub the soft fur between her ears.

“I know you have,” he said. Despite the fact that Charlotte wasn’t really a cat, the head-scritches felt quite nice, and she leaned into his touch. “I just worry about you, is all.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She sighed.

“It scares me,” she said quietly. “It feels like… like it’s got a mind of its own.”

Benny paused at the top of a small incline, gazing out into the trees with a thoughtful frown. Charlotte waited, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant whisper of the river.

“It’s a part of you,” he said simply. “Just like the fangs are part of me. I can use ‘em for bad or for good, but in the end…” he glanced down at her and gave her a small, warm smile, “they’re just tools.”

For a long moment, Charlotte just looked at him. He stood tall and proud, utterly calm, completely in control. Even after decades of living in this place, this vast, endless wilderness, surrounded by monsters, struggling, fighting, and killing to survive… even now, he remained whole. Unbroken.

When he smiled at her like that, it made her heart jump in her chest, like it was trying to squeeze its way out of her body and into his.

“Do you like being a vampire, Benny?” she asked.

Beneath her paws, the muscles in his shoulders tensed. He looked away.

“Don’t really matter whether or not I like it,” he replied, his voice flat. “It’s what I am.”

She thought about the magic woven through her body, pulsing in time with her heart.

“Would you change it, if you could?”

The muscles in his jaw clenched.

“No, kitten,” he said quietly, “I don’t think I would.” He sighed, shaking his head. “At this point, I don’t even remember what it’s _like_ to be human. And besides…” he smiled again, but it was a different smile this time. A sad smile, full of memory and defeat. “Bein’ a monster’s what I do best.”

Charlotte stood on her front paws and leaned up, touching her nose to his.

He went utterly still, eyes flashing wide as he stared down at her, his face frozen in an expression of wonder and disbelief.

“Don’t be stupid, Benny,” she said, batting his cheek with a tiny black paw. “If I can be a talking cat, you can be a good person.”

For a long moment, he didn’t react.

And then his laughter hit her, warm and deep and bright like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, vibrating through her body, and her heart stumbled and tripped and fell.

As he started walking again, Benny reached up to scratch behind her ears.

“To be fair,” he murmured, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of her head, “you’re not really a cat.”

Charlotte chuckled.

“Yeah, well, you’re not really a monster.”


End file.
